Play Dead
by finnishvixen
Summary: This story picks up after the opening moments of "Reunion I". A new profiler comes in to investigate Sam's kidnapping and Bailey's shooting. SABER.
1. Casually Shattering Remarks

(This story picks up after the opening moments of "Reunion I".)

**CASUALLY SHATTERING REMARKS**

Jack was fiddling with matches.**  
**

"And that cabin was..."

"Bailey." Terror seized her soul as she waited for the madman to continue. Was Bail still alive?

"Bailey. You should be flattered." _Why why why?_

"The last word he said on this earth was 'Sam'."

Devastation hit her like a ton of bricks. She turned her head away, trying to hide her visceral reaction. Had his last word been her name? What were his dying thoughts? Surprise at the identity of his killer? Regrets about their friendship? How had he felt about her? Had he thought of Frannie and Arianna? Oh God, how could she ever face his daughters, having brought about the death of their father?

He should have stayed away. She should have pushed him away a long time ago, gone into hiding again. She could have lived without his daily presence in her life. She could have dealt with a lot of things. Could have dealt with anything but this.

* * *

Bailey had finally wrestled her away from Coop when the paramedics arrived. He held her elbow, her close to his body as she watched the paramedics do the perfunctory CPR, then stop and call time of death. At that point, Bailey led her away from the scene, and she followed blindly, suddenly numb to everything and almost in-cognizant of her surroundings.

She refused to leave, even after several pleadings from Bailey. Or rather, she refused to understand his words. She didn't want to leave, because the world had stopped making sense again. Where would she go? What would she do now? She was shaking with impotent rage and defeat.

The sight of the crime scene photographer snapped her to the world around her. She had stayed around to fight, but it had come to nothing. Now, she would take flight. She turned on her heels and started walking down the street, just anywhere. Bailey had left her side for a minute, needing to brief the local ATF agent of the events. He noticed Sam was taking off when John yelled after her. The two men shared a look, and Bailey excused him instantly and hastened to run up to her.

"Sam!" No response, not even a backward glance.

"Sam, where are you going?" Nothing. He broke into a run and caught up with her.

"Sam, where are you going?" He stood in front of her, but she brushed past him.

"What are you going to do? Sam, talk to me." He reached to touch her arm.

"Don't touch me!" She flinched away, as if in physical pain.

"Sam..."

"Don't touch me! Leave me alone." He stepped in front of her again, raising his hands in a placating manner.

"I won't leave you alone."

"LEAVE ME ALONE! Or do you want to end up just like them? Do you want to end up dead, huh?" Her voice broke and she pushed him a little, trying to pass him. She hadn't walked three feet when he'd already turned, caught her arm and brought her into her embrace. She tried to break free, but his body and arms resisted her struggle until she wore down and started sobbing.

* * *

Bailey awoke to find himself in the hospital, still tormented by the nightmare he'd seen. Janet had exited in disgust, unable to accept that her former husband would only think of _her_ well-being. Grace chided Bailey's dismissive behaviour, but he hardly heard it.

"What do you know?"

"Only that you were shot in the shoulder and that Sam's missing."

"No news, nothing?" Grace's heart almost broke for him.

"No one saw anything that happened at the cabin. What do you remember?" Bailey shut his eyes, willing himself to recall the events.

"We arrived at the cabin. I didn't notice anyone else there. I wasn't even on the lookout... We took a look at the cabin, I went outside to the car to get the rest of her stuff. I opened the trunk and then... There was a searing pain in my shoulder. I fell the ground and blacked out."

"You didn't see or hear anything? "

"I heard nothing. He must have used a silencer."

Grace voiced the question neither of them could answer with certainty.

"Who used a silencer? Who would have kidnapped her? Jack? He's on death row. What could he possibly gain from this?"

"I don't know! I just know that something isn't right. We've missed something, somehow. How's the investigation going?"

Grace hesitated in her answer.

"You've been here for eighteen hours. They estimate that three hours lapsed before you were taken to the hospital. A locals relative got lost in the area and drove up to the cabin. She called help immediately. You should rest, you lost a lot of blood."

"You didn't answer my question."

"We've been frozen out of the investigation. You were shot, Sam's missing. The local police department took care of the initial stages of the investigation, and after that the word came down from Quantico that we wouldn't be allowed to take part. They're sending in another profiler."

"We won't be able to pitch in? Another profiler can't possibly familiarise himself with Jack's case sufficiently! Time is of the essence here." Bailey was getting more agitated by the second.

"We've been denied access to the evidence and the crime scene. There's nothing we can do. We'll be lucky if we're allowed to enter the VCTF on our own."

"Who did they send?"

"Eric Foster."

* * *

At that very moment, Special Agent Foster was addressing the members of the VCTF in the command centre. He was a tall and rotund man, had black hair and blue eyes, wore glasses and spoke in a soft voice.

"My name is Eric Foster, and I'll be leading the query into the shooting of Agent Malone and the disappearance of Agent Waters. Agent Malone is recuperating in the hospital, but the whereabouts of Agent Waters is still unknown. I'll be cooperating with the local police department. Who here has worked with Waters and Malone since the founding of the unit?" John, George and a dozen others raised their hands.

"Thank you. You're all excused from my investigation. You're all material witnesses and I'll be interviewing each of you in turn."

"What the hell do you mean? We won't allowed to help you find Sam? That's unacceptable!" John cried out in outrage.

"I will not have my investigation tainted by personal investment. When the search team has no significant emotional ties with the kidnapped party or any other victim, the chances of a favourable outcome increase exponentially."

"Bailey will never stand for this."

"Agent Malone won't have a say in this. The director of the FBI has ordered him on sick leave. The only involvement Agent Malone is to have will be as a witness to the crime. Have I made myself clear?"

John and George were stunned into silence by Foster's dismissive attitude.

"Fantastic. Now, who has worked here less than two months? You'll be assisting me. The rest of you, resume working on the cases tasked to you before the incident. As for my assistant crew, I'll meet you here in an hour. You, bring me the personnel files on Agents Malone and Waters as soon as possible," he said to the nearest agent. The crowd was hesitant to disperse. This abrasive Foster was a far cry from Bailey's managerial style.

They watched as Foster headed out, looking around him and peeking into offices. When he found Sam's office, he sneaked in. He looked at the paintings, the plants, the way her office was organised, rummaged through her belongings with an apparent disregard for her privacy. He gazed at the photos around her office for a long time. A picture of a blonde little girl. A picture of Agent Waters, the same little girl and a black woman in a kitchen somewhere. A picture of Agent Waters and Agent Malone, him kissing her head with balloons and a banner of some sort in the background. When the junior agent brought him the personnel files, he asked what the occasion had been.

"It was before my time. As I understand it, Agent Malone was shot by his daughter. That photo that must have been taken when he returned to work." Foster dismissed the agent, gazed at the photo for a short time and then delved into the files. He would have to delay the task force meeting. He wanted to poke around Agent Malone's office before he made any further plans.

* * *

It had taken Bailey better part of an hour to convince the doctors to give him access to the phone, then fight his way through the red tape to talk to someone who'd be in a position to give him real answers. He'd learned that Foster specialised in kidnappings, and had solved 16 cases with the victim coming home. Five other cases hadn't had a happy ending. Bailey managed to intimidate the young guy in the human resources department into revealing Foster's phone number. Bailey wasted no time in calling him.

"Special Agent Foster."

"This is Agent Bailey Malone."

"I see. I assume you've been briefed on how the investigation will be conducted?"

"Yes, but you're out of your mind if you think any of us will walk away."

"I'm sorry, but that's exactly what you will have to do. You know how this works. You're all too close to Agent Waters, and you're a victim yourself. You can't lead an objective search and rescue effort at this point."

"You don't know any of the background information on Jack."

"Are we certain that this Jack-of-All-Trades kidnapped her? Isn't he behind bars as we speak? The fact of the matter is, we have no conclusive evidence as to the identity of the kidnapper, and I won't leap to conclusions before such evidence is presented."

"Have the crime scene people used a black light at the scene yet?"

"I won't divulge that information" Foster said, but made a mental note to make sure someone swept the place. Better safe than sorry.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"That you're shut out of the investigation and will be given information on a need-to-know basis." Foster cut off Bailey's objections. "If you're well enough to engage in an hour of arguing over the phone, you're well enough to be interviewed. I'll drop by on my way to the crime scene."

"Oh, I'll be here." Foster hung up and left Bailey seething.

* * *

Foster had run into Grace outside Bailey's room and had informed her that he'd ask her some questions about Sam and Bailey at a later time. Bailey was dozing off in his bed, exhaustion having overtaken him. Foster observed him for a while outside the room, then stepped in and remained standing. He would use every authority exuding play in the book to make Agent Malone focus on answers that could be of use.

"Agent Malone? I'm Agent Eric Foster." The men shook hands, each assessing the other.

"Are you well enough to answer my questions?"

"What do you think?"

"I'll let that one slide. Tell me what happened."

"We arrived at the cabin..."

"No. How did you come to be at the cabin? Tell me everything."

"The Lucas trial had ended. Sam felt overwhelmed, said she needed some time off. My buddy had a cabin, which I offered for her use."

"How quickly did this plan of action come together?"

"This same week. The trial concluded on Wednesday, and we drove up to the cabin on Friday afternoon."

"Who would have known about it?"

"Just Sam, me, Grace, John, George, Angel and Chloe."

"Angel and Chloe are?"

"Angel is Sam's best friend since childhood. Chloe is Sam's eight-year-old daughter."

"Tell me about them."

"Chloe is the sweetest kid alive. She's a doll. Angel is a sculptor and a fierce friend. Don't tell me you didn't already know who they were."

"Oh, I did. I was curious how you'd describe them to a stranger."

"Because it tells you about my relationship with them and Sam? Okay. I understand that you've specialised in resolving kidnappings."

"That's correct. Although this isn't a straight forward kidnapping. One victim was kidnapped, another was shot, but not fatally. Just enough to knock you out of the proceedings. Why is that, I wonder. Any thoughts?"

"Because that's how devious Jack is."

"Let's back away from the Jack angle, shall we? Tell me about Agent Waters. What is she like?"

"Sam..." How could he begin to describe her?

"She's brilliant. A loving mother to Chloe. Would move the earth to protect her. She's strong beyond words, she's courageous and affectionate."

"How would she respond in a life-threatening situation?"

"She's a survivor. She would never give up. She'd fight to the bitter end for Chloe's sake."

"And how about the relationship between you two? How would you describe it?"

"We've known each other for thirteen years. We're best friends."

"You met at Quantico, correct? And you were her mentor at one point."

"Yes. But she soon surpassed me in profiling. She's the best profiler I've ever come across."

"Is that your professional opinion or personal one?"

"Both."

"Any idea why you were left alive by the kidnapper?"

"No, I haven't come up with any new reasons since three minutes ago."

"And there's nothing you've omitted to tell me?"

"What do you take me for? Why wouldn't I tell the absolute truth?"

"That I cannot say right now. But I have a feeling that there's more to this incident than is readily apparent. I don't mean to imply you're somehow involved. You care deeply for Agent Waters, that much is obvious. I believe you wouldn't withhold any crucial information by your volition. The problem is, you're too close to the case. You won't know what's vital information. Even I don't know what is at this time. Which means that this chat was just the first of many we're going to have."

"Can't wait."

"Before I visit the crime scene, talk me through the events." Bailey recounted the moments leading up to the second his world spun out of control.

* * *

How had Bail died? Jack must have been close to have heard his last words. God, she hoped it had been quick and painless.

She would never see him again, Jack would have made sure of it. She yearned to see him, hear his voice, look at him one last time. But he would probably be buried before she escaped Jack's clutches. She'd never have the chance to tell him how much she loved him, to hold him and say goodbye.

Her mind was whirring with regret, longing and guilt. She hadn't been silent for more than a few seconds.

"The milk's been spilt, let's not mope about it." That snapped her out of her thoughts. Milk? He was comparing Bailey's death to spilt milk?

"You bastard," she hissed. "I'm going to kill you." Jack continued to smoke, with a smug and nonchalant look on his face. He was in control and he knew it. He smiled indulgently at her words.

"Touched a nerve, have I? That's a shame. When are you going to realise that you don't need him? Wasn't getting rid of him enough to snap you away from the undue influence he wielded on you? Look at what all of his ideals and convictions brought him."

"Don't talk about him like that!" Sam picked up a lamp and hurled it at him, but he managed to avoid it by springing up and leaping a couple of steps. For the first time, Jack's complacent mask slipped a little as he watched his captive. There was something jarring in her ferocity. What was it?

_To be continued..._


	2. Holding On

**HOLDING ON**

"You don't get to talk about him" Sam hissed with rage in her voice. Jack wondered about what he'd just seen a glimpse of, then dismissed the notion. He had her and he had time. Nothing would stand in his way now, not even the VCTF and its leader. He relaxed and tutted.

"You really should change your tone. But then again, that's why I'm here. I'm here to help you, to guide you to a new world."

"What world?"

"A world without responsibilities and limits. A world of infinite freedom."

"You call this freedom? Terrorising me and my family for years, kidnapping me and killing..." She swallowed the words, unable to say the words out loud.

"Like I said, I'm going to help you. But maybe it's too soon. You're still groggy from the sedative, I suspect. I'll return in a few hours." Jack exited the room. She kept her distance until the door had closed, then she ran to the door to check it. It was bolted from the outside. She hadn't heard the lock click. She looked around, then walked to the book shelf. She inspected it carefully, then tried to push it along the wall. But the book shelf was too heavy to move, and it wasn't even half full with books. She couldn't use it to block the entrance to the room.

She looked at the roof and the corners, half expecting to see security cameras somewhere. There weren't any visible to the naked eye, but Jack could have hidden some in the furniture. She paced around the room until she realised there was no escaping the fact that Bailey was dead, she was a captive and she had to find a way to save herself.

She felt grief overtaking her and decided not to fight it. She had to believe that giving into her emotions was the right course of action. She would have more strength to fight Jack if she allowed herself a breakdown. What had Melinda once said? That she needed to give her feelings an outlet, or she might end up resembling Jack. She remembered the moment in Bailey's office after she'd realised that Jack thought they were the same. In Bailey's office. Bailey.

In a stupor, she walked to a corner, wedged herself between a night table and the wall, the sensation hurling her to a moment when she'd sut on the floor in her office and Bailey had come to comfort her. Her shoulders shook and she bowed her head, hugging her knees.

* * *

Bailey had described the events at the cabin to the best of his ability, and shortly thereafter, Agent Foster had left to inspect the crime scene. Luckily, Bailey still had a phone in his room. He decided to call Angel and Chloe, to reassure them that Sam would be found. The line rang once before Angel picked up.

"Angel Brown."

"Angel, it's Bailey."

"Bailey! How are you doing? Any word on Sam?" she asked in the same breath.

"No news yet. A new profiler is in charge of the investigation."

"A new profiler? Why would they bring in someone new?" Angel asked in a stunned voice.

"He's specialised in kidnappings. I guess the brass thought the case needed a new perspective." Bailey struggled to hide the frustration in hisvoice. He didn't feel the need to alarm Angel with the news that the VCTF had been ousted from the case. She was dealing with enough as it was.

"Is he any good? Will he find her?"

"I hope he will." Bailey sent out a silent prayer to the universe that Sam would be found unharmed.

"It was Jack who took her, wasn't it?" Angel asked, seeking confirmation to her worst fears.

"It must have been."

"She was so looking forward to the nightmare being finally over." Angel sighed. She knew that they all had been waiting for the conclusion of their joint nightmare. But instead, they had been thrust into it again, after a year of deceptive calm.

"I know. How is Chloe doing? Can I talk to her?"

Angel took a beat. "I haven't told her yet. I mean, it's only been a day... Shit. I don't know how I'll have the heart to tell her."

Telling Chloe that her mother was missing would shatter the little girl's world. Bailey mused for a while.

"She's still at the camp, right? I'll check out from the hospital tomorrow morning. We can go pick her up and tell her together."

A weight lifted off Angel's chest. Her own animosity toward Bailey had lessened over the past three years, and Chloe had always adored her Uncle Bailey. Chloe would be comforted by his presence.

"I'd also like to see you relocate to the fire station apartment. Only temporarily, that is. We've tightened the security there, and it's a place where Jack can't get to you."

"Do you really think it's necessary?"

"Yes, until we've captured Jack and saved Sam" he explained.

"Alright. I'll get everything ready. See you there tomorrow. Oh, and Bailey?"

"Yeah?"

"I thought I'd never say this, but it's good to hear your voice."

Bailey laughed as he hung up. Then, he started running the events of the past year through his mind. What had they missed?

* * *

Agent Foster drove up to the cabin. Officers from the local police department were at the scene, waiting for him. He parked the car, and looked at the surroundings. Secluded, no cabins in the vicinity. Private. He walked to the parked SUV. The boot was still open, and there was a large pool of dried blood on the ground. He glanced at the cabin. The distance was a hundred feet. Close enough to make a deadly shot wound. The kidnapper had never intended to kill Malone.

He approached the cabin. No bushes or outbuildings to hide behind. The unsub must have just bided his time behind the cabin, listened to the agents and made his move at the opportune time. The unsub would have walked to the front corner of the cabin, taken aim and wounded Agent Malone, then walked inside to confront Agent Waters. Foster entered the cabin and took in the scene. Chairs were scattered and overturned, the kitchen drawers were open, but there was no cutlery on the floor. Agent Waters must have looked for a defensive tool, but the unsub had swept the place and removed everything before the agents arrived. Agent Waters hadn't gone without a fight, but there was no blood anywhere. She must have been subdued with a drug.

The unsub had come prepared. He had planned everything meticulously and had never lost control. He had accomplished what he set out to do; to kidnap Agent Waters and wound Agent Malone.

Agent Foster exited the cabin and accosted the local police officers. His first order of business was to know if the sweep with the black light had turned up anything. Nothing had been found, inside or outside the cabin nor in Malone's car. He quizzed the first officer on the scene:

"When did you arrive here?"

The young policeman answered eagerly and precisely, hoping to impress the federal agent.

"I arrived at the scene seventeen minutes after the call and found the scene just as the lady who called it in described it. An agent laying on the ground beside a car. I checked for pulse, felt a faint heartbeat and proceeded to secure the perimeter."

"Did the witness touch the body? How did she identify Agent Malone to be a federal agent?"

"Sir, his FBI badge was pinned to the chest."

So the unsub had approached Malone after he'd subdued Waters and the wounded agent had passed out, to pin his badge on the chest. That signaled contempt for the profession and the man. The shooting hadn't seemed personal, but the badge placement read otherwise. This kidnapping was getting more complicated by the second.

"Was there any evidence on the scene?"

"There was a bundle of orange eletrical cord placed next to the agent."

* * *

After his phone call to Angel, Bailey focused on what really mattered: rescuing Sam. While the agent in charge of the investigation wasn't convinced, Bailey knew in his gut that Jack was still at large and had kidnapped Sam. The VCTF had missed something, even Sam had. Now, he had to think back, all the way to the day they'd cornered Jack in the women's penitentiary.

The more he thought about that day, the more Bailey's certainty in the fact that Lucas wasn't Jack increased. After all, why would Jack elude capture there and then allow himself to be captured a few days later? Why would anyone else kidnap Sam? Even if the real Jack were in prison, he wouldn't let another of his minions capture Sam. No, he would want to do it himself, like the last time he'd held Sam in his clutches.

Which meant that he now had to go through the past year leading up to the trip to the cabin. Jack would never spend a whole year without seeking her out in some way. He had even sent her correspondence during her retirement from the FBI. Bailey started making a list of the cases they had solved since Lucas' imprisonment. He knew he would only remember a small number of people connected to the cases, but he planned to call George and have him dig up the case files from the FBI and the local police departments. Bailey would have to rely on his intuition as he reminisced the men Sam had encountered, hoping that his profiling background would red flag someone in hindsight.

Before all of this, he pressed the call button by his bedside. He needed to get pain medication that wouldn't leave him drowsy or hinder his thinking.

* * *

Sam drew in a raspy breath. Her crying had subsided a while ago. She was exhausted and just wanted to wake up from this nightmare. Be back home with Chloe. See Bailey again. Feel his hand on the small of her back.

She leant her head against the wall, waiting for the strength to emerge from within herself. She had to find the will and strength to fight Jack until she'd be rescued. She started forming a plan on how to keep herself safe.

She shouldn't provoke Jack into a physical fight. She had never been skilled at hand to hand combat, so she was certain she would lose in a physical altercation. Plus, she shouldn't give him any chances to come in a near proximity to her body. She shuddered, fearing that since the game was drawing to a close, Jack would be at the end of his patience and could try to force himself on her. True, he hadn't been able to rise to her challenge and touch her hand two years ago, but since then he'd had Sharon Lester. By Lester's admission, "he'd loved touching her". Sam would do everything she could to keep her distance from the deranged killer.

She suspected that he would try to convince her of the similarities between them, how alike they were in his mind. She would need to refute the notion at every turn, never wavering in her own stance that they were worlds apart. She needed to keep reminding herself and him of that fact, and decided to throw in his face her most precious moments when she'd felt alive.

She quickly discarded using her times with Chloe and Angel as ammunition. As far as she knew, they were safe, and she couldn't risk Jack hunting them down to hurt her. The remaining VCTF members were out for the same reason. She wouldn't put their lives in danger. That left the people who'd already been killed by Jack. Tom, Coop, Bailey. As agonising as reminiscing them would be, she had little choice.

Steeling herself, she embarked on the painful trip down memory lane, hoping to emerge with the strength she needed.

* * *

Bailey had dozed off in the midst of poring over the last year. The pain medication had been changed to the one he'd received while recuperating from the gun shot by Frannie, but he was running on empty and still weak from the operation. He'd given strict orders to the nursing staff that he ought to be awakened if anyone from the FBI came to see him.

Agent Foster stepped in. The sound of the door closing drew Bailey from his fitful sleep. He snapped to full alertness when he recognised the visitor. Agent Foster approached the bed.

"Any news?" Bailey looked hopeful.

"Nothing yet. I came to share a few details from the cabin. My hope is that you'll be able to shed some light on them."

Bailey looked alarmed, his mind fearing the worst. "What details?"

"Well, it looks like Agent Waters was kidnapped with the help of a sedative. There was no blood inside the cabin. Just to set your mind more at ease."

Bailey released his breath, but waited for the punch line.

"I learned a few things concerning you. First, your FBI badge was pinned to your chest." Bailey blanched, and Foster knew that the detail was significant.

"Jack broke into my house two years ago, stole my id and badge and pinned them on the body of a woman he killed in Atlanta. That detail was never disclosed to the press." Bailey was reeling at the confirmation that Jack was behind Sam's disappearance. That bastard had Sam.

Bailey remained taciturn, and Foster plowed on.

"There was also a bundled orange electrical cord placed near your body."

"Another one of Jack's touches. He left similar bundles at the crime scenes of his first known victims, before he replaced them messages to Sam. Now do you believe that he's behind all this?" Bailey challenged the agent in charge.

"It could still be a copycat, someone Lucas filled in on the details."

Bailey could hardly keep his tone of voice civil. "Fine, you want definite proof that Lucas isn't Jack? Jack kidnapped Sam once before. During her captivity, Sam challenged him to take her hand, but he couldn't do it. In hindsight, Jack would be furious at her challenge and mortified for his own inability to rise to it. He wouldn't share his failure to anyone, it's too personal and damning. Ask Lucas about it. Then you'll know the truth."

"Why did she do it? Challenge him to take her hand?"

Bailey shrugged. "She realised that he wanted her admiration and wanted to be close to her. She upped the ante."

"I see." Foster mused over this latest insight into the psyche of the missing agent. Then, he forged on, determined to get to the bottom of the relationship between his fellow agents.

"As I see it, the kidnapper could have killed you, but instead, resorted to wounding you and showing his anger and contempt of you in another way. Which leads me to wonder this: why is he targeting you in such a manner? The main victim of the crime is Agent Waters, but you aren't far behind. Why would that be?"

"Maybe he resents my role in Sam's life."

"Which would be?" Foster asked quickly. He couldn't shake the feeling that the VCTF boss was keeping his cards close to his vest in some way.

"Her best friend."

"And nothing else?" Foster hoped to rile up Malone, to get an unguarded reaction.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Are you telling me everything I need to know?"

That provoked Malone, alright. "What the hell? Are you insinuating that I'm deliberately withholding information that would bring my best friend home?"

"No, what I'm saying is that you might not know what is vital information. You're too close to the case. Despite all your training, it's impossible for you to know what is important and what isn't. To be fair, nor do I know at this point. But there is something amiss in this case." Foster backed down from his questioning and made to leave.

"You're checking out of here tomorrow, correct?"

Bailey nodded his assent, and peered at the obnoxious agent. "Are you going to visit Lucas tomorrow?"

Glancing back as he approached the door, Foster decided to tell the truth. "I am. Keep your cell phone on you. As you may have guessed, I still have many questions for you." With that, he departed.

The new details of Bailey's shooting sank in. The bundle and the badge pointed at Jack, and his desperation to find Sam neared a frenzy. Concentrating on his breathing, he tried to calm himself down. Panicking wouldn't be of any use. A pang of self-recrimination hit him when he considered his evasive answers to the agent.

Truth of the matter was, he was withholding something. The fact that he was in love with Sam. A fact that had crystalized in the moments after the gun shot, before he lost consciousness. His mind had flown to Sam immediately, sickened with worry for her wellbeing. As he'd slid to the ground, he had been swarmed by memories of the beautiful blonde and his daughters.

He tried to pinpoint the moment he'd fallen for her. Hell, even the time frame would be useful. But his heart refused to supply the answers. The damn organ had hidden its rightful owner only to throw it in his face when there was almost nothing to hope for. It had probably relinquished itself to the gorgeous woman bit by bit, seeking out solace, affection and strength that were to be found in abundance in her heart.

So yes, he wasn't as forthcoming to the agent in charge as he could be. But before he could convince the agent that Jack had Sam, he saw no need to tear his heart open for the flurry of questions the insensitive agent would inevitably pose. He also couldn't quite figure out how or why his feelings could have a bearing on the case. If he hadn't been aware of his traitorous heart, how could anyone else be?

He refrained himself from entertaining the notion that Sam would feel the same way about him, even though the hope flicked like a candle in some distant corner of his heart.

Sighing, Bailey shook his head to clear his thoughts and called John to confirm to the junior agent that Jack had resurfaced.

* * *

Sam was startled out of her memories when she heard foot steps behind the door. She moved to the left side of the room, where there was more furniture and more room to evade Jack, if he got too close. He came in carrying boxes, and looked at her with a blissful smile.

"I've dreamt of this moment."

He locked the door from this side. Then, he walked to the sofa and opened the box labeled "One". He pulled out a manila folder.

"I want to share my kills with you. What better way to prove to you that we belong together?"

A dry heave tried to force its way up. Oh God. How would she survive this?

TBC...


	3. He Will Always Have Me

(Belated disclaimer: I own nothing. Seasons 3 and 4 wouldn't have happened on my watch.)

**HE WILL ALWAYS HAVE ME**

**Sunday**

Bailey was looking at the wheelchair with disdain as he awaited John. A reminder of the damage his body had incurred, as if the pain and the sling around his left arm weren't physical and visual reminders enough. He had convinced the doctor to switch the pain medication, so he was already more alert than he had been last night.

He'd tried to compile the list of potential Jack suspects late into the night, but sleep had claimed him eventually. Nightmares again, restless sleep. He sighed and wished that John would arrive soon. He doubted that the junior agent would have news, but he would bring the files George had pulled concerning Sam's cases from the past nine months. He'd agreed to meet Angel at the fire station safe house. She would drive them to tell Chloe the bad news, and on the drive there, Bailey would pore over the files, looking for curious details of the men who had passed Sam's way.

He wondered when Agent Foster might gain access to Donald Lucas. An FBI agent's kidnapping would expedite things, and the Jack-related physical evidence at the crime scene should hasten the proceedings more. Bailey decided to call the agent after Angel and Chloe were ensconced in the safety of the fire station.

"Bailey. Hey." John had come in while Bailey was deep in thought.

"No news, I guess." John shook his head with a grim look.

Bailey felt sheepish for his failure to greet his friend. "Sorry. Hi John. I'm in pain and a little preoccupied. That's no excuse, though," Bailey muttered, thinking of the time Sam had gently chided him for failing to give her a proper hello.

John smiled a little. "This isn't my first rodeo," clearly reminiscing the same period of time. "Do you have any news?"

"Nothing since last night, when I challenged Foster to confront Lucas. Did George get the files together?"

"Yeah, they're in my car on the back seat." John fidgeted a little. "I was wondering... Do you want me to take a leave of absence?" At Bailey's questioning look, he continued: "If I can't investigate Sam's disappearance and your shooting officially, I'd rather help you get to the bottom of this off the record than waste a minute on some other case."

Bailey was humbled. "I appreciate that. Let's wait and see what Foster thinks after he meets with Lucas. After that, he might be more open to our cooperation. But thanks."

"No problem. Let's get you out of here."

* * *

Agent Foster waited in the bare holding cell for Lucas. It had taken a few hours to cut through the red tape, with a round of calls to the deputy director of the FBI, the governor of the state, to the warden of the prison housing the convict. Foster reviewed his plan of action. He would cut to the chase straight away, revealing to Lucas the events of the past days. The killer's reaction would be telling.

Lucas shuffled in with cuffs chained to his hands and feet. The guards pushed him down on the seat and remained standing beside him.

Foster took a beat, studying the man in front of him. The convict wore a blank expression. "I'm Special Agent Eric Foster. I've come here to discuss Agent Waters with you."

The killer perked up a little. "What about her?"

Foster put the official FBI id photo of her on the table and slid it towards Lucas. He kept a close eye on the convict. "She's been kidnapped."

Lucas had gazed at the photo with interest and warmth, but he shot an ambiguous look to the agent at the news. "By whom?"

"You tell me. Did you orchestrate it?"

Lucas turned taciturn. Seeing that he wouldn't get an answer, Foster slid two other photos on the table. Malone's id photo, and the photo he'd taken from Waters' office, of the two agents. Lucas' face didn't show any strong emotions towards the wounded agent. Foster decided to go in for the kill.

"You kidnapped her once before, set her up for the murder of Darla Turner. That must have appealed to you, being able to control her like that. After all, that's what the game was always about. I'm curious though, how did you feel when she tried to control you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"When she realised that you wanted to be close to her and challenged you to take her hand. That must have been hell of a blow to your ego..."

Lucas bristled at the slight the agent was insinuating. "I've always been in control."

"Have you? I doubt it. See, I think you never even touched her when she was conscious. Sure, you touched her after you let that spider bite her. But when she was awake? Nah." Foster threw in a contemptuous chuckle for good measure, hoping that Lucas would rise to the bait. "Sort of pathetic, really."

"I touched her plenty."

"You took her hand?"

"Yes!"

Foster sighed at the confirmation of Malone's doubts. "You're not Jack. The real Jack didn't touch Agent Waters that day." He stood up to leave. Lucas wasn't going anywhere, and therefore making sense of the convoluted story between the real Jack and Lucas would have to wait until Jack was caught.

* * *

Sam felt dizzy. Whether the sensation came from a lack of sleep, the sedative Jack had shot her with or the times she had to go heave her stomach's contents in the bathroom, she could not say.

Jack had kept her up half the night by his presence, then the rest of the night by the things he'd revealed. Some of the events she had already known, had been able to deduce from the profiles she had made of the victims; other things she wished she could forget forever. And he hadn't even reached the victims that were connected to her.

She had tried to throw Jack with the memories she'd thought of, and a few times, she could see that something had struck a nerve, however slightly. She'd shared a few memories of the happy days with Tom and Coop, not feeling strong enough to reminisce Bailey yet. She figured that the memories would start weighing heavily on her mind once Jack reached Donald Franklin, the first case she and Bailey had investigated.

She tried to estimate the passage of time. It must have been Saturday when she awoke in this place. She guessed that the day was Sunday. She suspected that Jack might blur the times of day together to keep her disoriented and thereby more susceptible to his agenda.

She wondered what Grace, John and George were doing. Where would they be looking for her? Or were they busy grieving Bailey? Had Frances and Arianna flown to Atlanta? How were Chloe and Angel coping?

Foolish thoughts and memories flooded her. Of picnics and dinners, of hugs and kisses. She even managed to smile at them.

Her smile died when she heard the key in the lock. She steeled herself for another barrage of devastating details.

* * *

Bailey let out a frustrated sigh from the back seat. He'd been poring over the case files of the investigations he didn't remember with clarity. The team had overseen over twenty cases since Lucas' incarceration, with hundreds of male names to be checked. With George's help, the suspects could be listed and narrowed in a matter of hours, but Agent Foster's dismissive attitude made sure that the VCTF's resident computer genius was off limits.

He was surprised when Angel said "We're five minutes away. You wanna start organising the files so that Chloe won't see them?"

Bailey closed the file and started stashing files back into the boxes.

"Have you figured out anything?"

A bitter chuckle escaped his lips. "Nothing substantial yet."

"Oh. Well, you will. You taught Sam, after all."

Bailey looked out of the window, trying to ignore the pang in his chest. "In this case, the apprentice has surpassed the master a long time ago."

"I find that hard to believe." The conversation died until Angel asked "I hate to ask, but how are you doing?" She looked at him in the rear view mirror.

How was he doing? A deafening dread consumed his waking hours and invaded his dreams, his self-recriminations had reached an all-time high, and if the worst came to be, he feared or rather knew he'd never get over losing her. "Not too great." Angel nodded in understanding.

She started to slow down. "We're here."

* * *

Agent Foster had called Malone and heard that he was bringing Waters' daughter home to Atlanta. He kept the phone call short, but had informed the wounded agent that he'd come to realise Lucas indeed wasn't Jack. Foster would meet Malone at the fire station safe house, where they would discuss the way the investigation would now proceed. He was also quite curious to see the house Malone had secured for Waters three years ago.

Foster identified himself to the agents stationed outside the house entrance. He surveyed the large entry hall before taking the elevator. The hand print reader was out of order. He ascended to the second floor and was greeted by Malone, who opened the door.

"Agent Malone. Mind if I take a quick look around?"

Bailey had patience for only one thing. "Yes. What's the plan from now on? Are you going to let me chip in?"

Foster's eye brows shot high. "I still view you primarily as a victim and a witness of this case. But," he placated the agent, "I won't lie that I welcome your expertise concerning Jack. I have much catching up to do."

"I'm already compiling a list of suspicious male contacts and acquaintances Sam might have met since Lucas was caught." Off Foster's questioning look, he continued "Jack wouldn't have let someone else impersonate himself without seeking her out." Foster had to concede his point. A stalker rarely, if ever, lessened the efforts to ingratiate himself to the life of the chosen victim. Every unreturned act of appreciation would only serve to step up the efforts.

"I believe you're right about that. You can enlist Agent Fraley's help with narrowing down the suspects. Now, may I look around a bit?" Bailey stepped aside and swept a hand to signal his consent. Agent Foster walked around, asking a question here and there about whether the furniture was the same, how had the rooms been divided among the occupants, how many times the security cameras had been used. Bailey stopped Foster from entering Angel's old room. Chloe and Angel were in there, wanting privacy from the unfamiliar agent.

At Bailey's explanation, Foster enquired "Would it be possible for me to meet the daughter?"

Bailey blocked the door and lowered his voice. "Her name is Chloe, and absolutely not. She's off limits, even to you." Foster made note of the agent's protective streak. Something to mull over later. He stepped back from the door. "I'm heading to the task force offices. Will you meet me there in, say, three hours? To debrief me on Jack?" Bailey informed the agent that he would have a session with the dramatic incident counsellor in two hours. He would arrive at the VCTF after the session. Foster took his leave.

**Monday**

Sam's control of her sanity was teetering. The onslaught of gut-wrenching details from the last minutes of Jack's victims' lives was taking its toll on Sam. She felt raw and exposed every second of every minute of every hour. Like Jack was just chipping away at her will to live while she tried desperately to fortify her walls of self-preservation.

She was being pulled into the abyss, and this time, she couldn't lean on Bailey to bring her back from the brink; memories were all that remained.

She tried to maintain her strength and keep herself hydrated, although the water and the bare fruits she had taken to eating in an effort to stay clear of any drugs had mostly ended up in the drain as Jack revealed, time after time, another vile detail. She was beginning to feel weak.

Sleep offered no respite. She would fall asleep and then be woken up by the nightmares that followed from the real world only twenty minutes later. She was rapidly approaching her breaking point.

She reminded herself to think of Chloe, to reminisce the joyous moments of her life. Or was she dreaming of new ones, of days when Jack was long buried and she lived on her life with Bailey by her side? Somewhere along the way, the line had blurred and she could barely tell the difference sometimes.

* * *

Bailey closed his eyes as the elevator doors shut and the cabin started its descent. His session with the counsellor from yesterday had left him raw. The counsellor had prodded his present mental state, leaving the recall of the shooting to a later time. They'd discussed Jack's return and the spectre of Bailey never seeing Sam again, and, much to his chagrin, his feelings for the missing agent, although he hadn't voiced their true nature. The counsellor had been adamant that he would need to let himself feel the feelings, the denial of which would only serve to tie him up in knots. As long as Sam was missing, cherishing his feelings and memories of her could help him weather it out.

Bailey had met Agent Foster at the command center last night. They'd gone over the details of the Jack investigation, and the agent hadn't broached any personal feelings. Today might be a different story.

His thoughts turned to the unexpected encounter he'd had on his way from the session. He'd been in the parking hall, heading to the car for his ride to the command center when his name had been uttered quietly. Between two SUV's had been Casper, dressed in an impeccable suit. The CIA agent had motioned Bailey to come over.

Casper had beaten Bailey to the punch. "I heard about what happened. Is there anything I can do?"

"Not much, but thanks."

"Are you close to catching the bastard?"

"I hope so." Casper had regarded the man in front of him. He'd put his arms in pockets and rocked on his heels, adopting a nonchalant air.

"You know, the times are dangerous, even if you capture him alive. You never know what could happen. Convicts die in in maximum security prisons all the time, or they go missing on the prison transport. And no one is ever able to figure out what terrible fate befell the person. Can you imagine?"

"Maybe the government should get someone on that." The men had shared a wry smile. "Thanks. Keep your ears open for any Sam-related chatter."

Casper had nodded. "Of course. I hope you find her. I like her." With that, Casper had slunk into the shadows of the parking hall.

The elevator pinged and the doors opened. Bailey stepped into the frantic command center.

* * *

"Let's talk about your relationship with Agent Waters." Foster peered at Bailey. They were sitting around the upper table of the command center. Foster leaned back in his chair and regarded the VCTF leader with a serious look. "I've been able to deduce a few things from my interviews with you and your subordinates."

There was something about the agent that irritated Bailey a bit. Maybe it was that he wasn't the type of person Bailey would fraternize with outside the work place. "Such as?"

Foster sighed. "Why are you so determined to keep a tight lid on anything of a personal nature? I'm here to help, not throw a wrench into your relationship with Agent Waters. So tell me what I need to know in order to do my job."

Bailey knew he couldn't stall any longer. "I've... recently discovered that I have certain feelings for Sam."

"Are they romantic ones?"

"Yes." Foster remained silent, so Bailey pressed on. "But I don't see how my feelings have any bearing on the case. If I didn't know, how could Jack know?"

Foster shrugged. "Both Tom Waters and you were shot with a handgun. To me, that correlation is a clear sign that Jack very much regards you as a rival for Agent Waters' romantic affections, if you will." Bailey pondered Foster's opinions and tried to beat down the ever flickering flame of hope.

"Regardless of Jack's knowledge of your feelings, he resents and possibly hates you. You have provided Agent Waters with emotional support all these years. You share a deep connection. On some level, he must suspect that he can't compete with that. He must feel that without you, he would have lured her over to his side a long time ago."

Foster decided to focus Bailey's thoughts on another terrifying matter. "You know the killer and his profile better than I do. In your opinion, what he is doing with her?"

Bailey shot the agent a scathing look. Foster reasoned "You have to try and push your personal feelings aside and think like an experienced profiler. Otherwise, you're useless to me." There was that Mr Personality aspect again. Bailey tried to distance himself from his dread and view the case impersonally.

"The last time he had her, he toyed with her and framed her for murder. He was in total control."

"Do you think Waters will try to rattle him, challenge him again?"

"Maybe. But last time, it was clear that he wouldn't keep her long. He hadn't had anyone committed for his crimes, and he even left behind a puzzle to find her."

"Would she have known that he wasn't going to detain her?"

"I think so. He blinded her temporarily, but it wore off quickly. She could hear the muffled shouts of a serial killer Jack had kidnapped. He even answered Angel's phone call."

Foster contemplated Bailey's words. "Now, the situation is different. He's framed Lucas, he wounded you and he's left no clues behind. As far as he's concerned, the game is over."

Bailey shot Foster's question back at the man. "What do you think he's doing with her?"

"Maybe he's parading his memorabilia of her. Maybe he's telling her how he became a serial killer or why he chose her. I believe he's trying to convince her that they're alike, and he may employ any means to achieve that goal. The salient point is that throughout all these years, he has built a fantasy relationship with her, and as it becomes increasingly clear to him that the reality will not live up to the fantasy, she faces ever greater danger."

"You mean that he might eventually kill her."

"Yes. You need to prepare yourself for that outcome." Bailey didn't respond, too lost in dread. If only Sam would hold on.

**Tuesday**

Jack was taunting Sam with Bailey's death. She wanted to claw his eyes out.

"And that day... It wasn't hard to find out where you were headed. A simple wire tab was all it took. So, I arrived there a few hours before you did. Waited behind the cabin, cleaned it of utensils. When he stepped out to get the rest of the bags, I made my move. He was standing at the boot when I shot him. Poor bastard never saw it coming." He chuckled.

Bailey had died from a gunshot. Just like Tom. It was fitting, in the most cruel possible way.

"Then, I was reunited with you."

In the silence that followed Jack's words, Sam tried to clear her mind. The way he had just described Bailey's demise... Something was off about Jack's story. She had a feeling it was something she shouldn't ignore, despite the emotional tailspin it might cast her into.

"What was that? For days, you've been torturing me with telling the most gruesome, nightmare inducing details of your every heinous murder, every moment leading up to the final heartbeat, but with Bailey... You just glossed it over."

Jack suddenly realised he stood on precarious ground. His resentment of the VCTF leader had increased with every one of Sam's memories concerning the man, and it dawned on him too late that that was why he should have put more effort into describing the murderous act. His frustration had gotten the better of him, and he now had to scramble to convince her that the scant details were because of his desire to get away with her as soon as possible, not because the agent wasn't actually dead.

"Did I? Do you want to hear more about his last word? How it died on his lips? How I pinned his FBI id to his chest? To be honest, I wasn't paying that much attention. After all, I had more pressing things on my mind, like our reunion."

No, that wasn't right. Jack killed to own his victim. He would never hasten his high for any reason. He enjoyed the game too much.

"No, you always pay attention when the victim dies. That's the only time you feel alive. You wouldn't pass that up for anything. It's like you took no pleasure in Bailey's death, like you aren't savouring your memories of it. It's like..."

Sam's breathing hitched. If Jack isn't savouring his memories of Bailey's death, it's because it never happened. It never happened. Bailey never died.

"It never happened," she whispered.

She forced herself to examine her logic, to ponder the lack of feeling in Jack's final story, to picture the scene at the cabin and to profile Jack's actions there and here, just seconds ago. It all added up.

"You aren't exulting in Bailey's death because he didn't die. He's still alive."

Jealous wrath consumed Jack as he watched her whole being come alive again. A spark had been lit inside her and she shone like the sun, fiercely, blindingly.

For a moment, Sam's energy felt tapped, as her mind reeled from the realization. Then, it soared to the skies and she smiled, her hand unconsciously moving to the small of her back and the other to her neck. He was still alive. Relief washed over her and tears pooled in her eyes, spurred on by the new-found world of hope. He would save her, just as her memories of him had already saved her from falling into the abyss Jack was dangling her over. She would see him again.

Sam pinned Jack down with a steely look from her blue eyes, and the utter conviction in her words started a rage inside his head. "The game's over. You lost."

* * *

Bailey, John, George and Agent Foster were stationed in the command center, discussing and eliminating possible Jack suspects. The list had whittled down to 22 men who warranted a closer look. Agent Foster had relented on his rules, and so John was allowed to chip in, helping to assess the behaviour of the suspects on the basis of his own memories.

They worked chronologically, not wholly ignoring cases unrelated to Jack, but focusing on the dates surrounding Lucas' capture and the team's trip to Otis, California. Bailey asked George to pull up the men who'd sought out or otherwise met Sam after the incidents. This yielded six men, including two prison guards, a local newspaper reporter, the sheriff from Otis and two of his deputies. It took a few quick calls to ascertain that the prison guards and the reporter were out of the running. All three of them hadn't called in sick or quit since Friday, and the FBI agents were all in agreement that Jack wouldn't leave Sam for long periods of time at this stage of the game.

The information was slow to trickle in from Otis, however. The haphazard way of running the sheriff's station was still in full swing, and the deputy who'd answered the phone call had only been on the job a week and still learning the ropes. It took a few hours for the VCTF members to hear back from the sheriff, and then they learned that the sheriff and one deputy had both quit recently.

George started tracking down the movements of the suspects, and Bailey, John and Foster reconvened at the upper table to discuss each man.

"What about this Sheriff Boats? What do you remember?"

John chimed in. "He was the quintessential hapless small town sheriff. Didn't really react to Sam at all, at least that I saw." Foster looked at Bailey, waiting for his opinion.

"He was polite to her, but seemed to take no special interest in her."

"Would you really expect Jack to do so in plain sight?" Foster asked.

John challenged "Look, once Jack was again face to face with Sam, wouldn't he have made some oblique overtures to her over the investigation? Nudging her a little, toying with her? Boats didn't do anything of the kind, hell, he didn't even say her name once that I recall."

Both Bailey and Foster tensed. Bailey willed himself to remember every encounter with the bumbling idiot, and he too was grasping at straws to think of a time Boats had used Sam's name. Something finally clicking, Bailey stood up and strode over to George. John and Foster followed.

"George, pull up the court transcript of the Sheriff Boats' testimony."

"Checking to see if he mentioned her name on the stand?" John asked.

Bailey nodded. "We should also check how many times he attended the trial. He might have been there on other occasions to be close to Sam. George?" The computer whiz nodded and indicated that the search would take a few minutes. He pulled up Boats' testimony first.

"Search for Sam's name." No results came up.

"Let's see if and how he referred to her" Foster suggested. George performed a search algorithm for female nouns and pronouns in the transcript. The search returned a few hits.

Bailey's eyes scanned through the results quickly. "'That lady'..." Boats' only mention of Sam. "How many times did he attend the trial?"

George pulled up another search window. "Four times. For his own testimony, Sam's turn, Lucas' confession and the verdict." Bailey's furious kick sent the nearby chair rolling to the wall, colliding with a loud thump. Jack had been right under their noses.

Foster's voice cut through the silence. "We've found our guy, I believe. Let's make sure, though. We need a full background check on him, assuming he bothered to fabricate one that doesn't crumple immediately. Agent Malone, a word?" Foster gestured for Bailey to join him at the upper table.

They sat down. Foster spoke brusquely. "I need you to tamp down your anger and think. How did you and Agent Waters act in front of Boats? "

"Not of out the ordinary. We behaved in the same way as we always do. We shared a hug after the verdict came in." Bailey considered the agent's line of questioning. "Are you concerned that it would endanger Sam?"

"And you. Jack may have revealed his real appearance, and that raises the stakes. If she realises that you're still alive, it places both of you in grave danger. If push comes to shove and she shows no signs of coming over to his side, he may resort to trying to kill you in front of her this time."

Bailey took Foster's words in and leaned into the chair. "Let's figure out how he's going to do it."

**Wednesday**

Her time was running out. Sam's willpower had surged with her realization about Bailey, and so she was able, for the first time in her captivity, to use her profiling skills and adopt a persona that she estimated would throw Jack off. She was skilled at this, altering her demeanour and even speech patterns to get the desired reaction out of the suspect. Doing so would strip Jack of his precious control.

She knew that she was fighting against the clock. With every hour, the possibility of Jack killing her increased, as he was presented with mounting proof that she would never succumb to him. What she needed was a mistake on his part. He'd already made two: letting Bailey live and letting her know about it. She had to rattle her cage to see if she could push him to do a third mistake, a mistake of her making. She had to bait him oh so carefully, try to steer him in the direction she wanted.

"Do you want to hear how Bailey and I met?"

Jack knew that they were in the midst of a power play, one that had started out with him in control, but the balance had shifted and he was steadily losing ground. He needed to gain the upper hand again, and he would need some time alone to come up with a strategy. The problem was, Sam would recognise his absence for that it was, which in turn would only weaken his hold on her.

He cursed his plan for Malone. If everything had gone according to plan, he would have had the satisfaction of having his beloved Sam by his side and seeing Malone unravel and destroy himself slowly. Now, she wouldn't shut up about the chump.

Sam observed him. "No, I can see that wouldn't hold your interest. Let's come up with another topic. One that hits closer to home." She walked around a bit.

"How about the time you broke into Bailey's home and stole his credentials? You know, you surprised me with that. Nearly drove me up the walls. I was so afraid that you'd attack him again, I could barely let him out of my sight." A thought occurred to Sam.

"When you met Molly Sargucci, you posed as Bailey, didn't you?" Jack's tense jaw gave him away.

"Yes, you probably identified yourself as Agent Malone to her. How did that make you feel? More like a man? Less like a shell, less like an excuse for a human being?" Sam spat out.

Sensing a good opportunity to drive Jack to his mistake, she continued: "You used his identity to cozy up to a leggy blonde. Malone and a leggy blonde, hm. Why does that sound familiar?"

She kept hammering on. "Did you wonder about how I had met Bailey? Did you think about how I would react to Bailey coming on to me? If we'd ever shared a drink in a bar? Had I stolen glances at him when he's preoccupied? Hm?" She watched as Jack tried to remain calm and unaffected by her words.

"The answers to the last two questions would be affirmative, in case you're wondering. Oh, and the one about Bailey coming on to me? Well, I can't say that I haven't thought about it." She made a show of running any number of such events through her head. She gave a tiny satisfied smile.

"I think I'll live to find out what the real deal is like. But if there's one thing I know with absolute certainty, it's this: You will never have me. _He_ will always have me."

Jack stiffened and stormed out. The game was far from over, and Sam would know it soon. He had a plan.

* * *

Bailey tilted his head to the side, trying to stretch the sore muscles of his neck. Fifteen hours had passed since they'd surmised Boats to be Jack. Of those hours, Bailey had slept a few, waiting for confirmation about Boats. When the sheriff's background information had been revealed to be bogus, the agents had focused on figuring out Jack's next move. He would come after Bailey, but the method was unknown. Janet, Frances and Arianna were under FBI protection, although they were in Baltimore and Marion, which made it unlikely that Jack would go after them. He couldn't reach Angel or Chloe at the fire station safe house, and Morgan and Richard had both agents protecting them.

"He could always use someone we don't know, someone who's at the wrong place at the wrong time" John offered.

Bailey dismissed it. "While he has done so before, it's too late in the game to entangle somebody else. Plus, how would he get rid of them once they've achieved the goal and brought me in? It's too messy."

Foster chimed in. "That leaves Agent Waters. Which is what I think he will do. What would be more satisfying than Waters bringing Malone to his death? I believe that Jack is counting on you to follow Waters to the ends of the world. So, the only question is: how will he force her hand?"

"No gun will work for obvious reasons. You think he might resort to toxic poisoning again?" John enquired of Bailey.

"Maybe. We should check if any toxic reptiles or animals have gone missing in the state of Georgia in the past week. But, my feeling is that Jack wouldn't repeat himself."

Foster reasoned "And toxins are hard to manufacture or come by, and the effects of the toxin could prove too unpredictable."

John was puzzled. "So what does that leave us? Paper cuts? Missiles? Grenades?"

Bailey was chuckling softly at the younger agent's silly remark when the last suggestion hit home. He scrambled to get a hold of the table phone and grunted out "We need to hurry."

**Thursday**

Sam awoke from her restless sleep on the chair when the door clicked. She drew a breath when she saw Jack approaching her with a gun. She scrambled to get up from the chair and looked around for something with which to fend Jack off.

Advancing towards her, Jack's lips curled to a twisted smile. "Don't worry, I don't mean to shoot to kill. Well, not you. You're going to be reunited with your precious Malone after all. I'll kill him while you watch on. Here's the kicker: you're going to deliver him to me."

Sam had backed herself into a corner and had nowhere to run when the shot rang. She remained conscious for mere seconds before she blacked out. I'm coming, Bailey. Please be ready for this.

_TBC..._

_(I have the next chapters almost ready, so there shouldn't be a huge wait in store. I just need to fine tune them a bit.)_


	4. Out of the Abyss

**OUT OF THE ABYSS**

Sam awoke in the back seat of a car, mind groggy and body listless. Where was she? Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadowy figure. Her mind snapped to alertness, and she jerked up. A heavy belt, strapped on her waist, constricted her movements. She looked at it and froze, seeing the bomb and not knowing how sensitive it might be.

Jack was standing outside the car. She could hear the joyful malice in his voice, like a cat who'd just licked a whole bowl of cream. "You have 89 minutes to bring Malone to me. The rest of the instructions are in the note. Tick tock." He turned on his heels and walked to another car. He must have driven it here before he drugged her.

Sam watched him drive away, then she gingerly inspected the bomb to see if it had a visible timer on it. There was one, and the time remaining on the clock was 88 minutes.

She felt a rush of satisfaction. Jack had played into her hands perfectly. Now, all she had to do was pray that Bailey would be ready for this, her desperate attempt at rescue. She rose from the back seat and arranged herself to the driver's seat. A note was taped to the wind shield.

"_A phone at the south-west corner of Adams Park will ring five times at 2:25 pm. Bring Malone and no one else."_

Sam checked the time. It was 1:43 pm. Just over forty minutes to the deadline. Jack had taped a map on the other side of the note, marking her location. She was a long way from downtown Atlanta. She turned the key and steered the car down the road.

She drove as fast as she could, mindful of the stakes. She couldn't risk being pulled over by traffic police and losing precious time.

* * *

Sam pulled over on the curb outside the VCTF building. She couldn't spare the time to look for a legal spot to park in. She buzzed the door and positioned herself and the bomb in full view of the security camera, tapping her foot and a mantra "Please be ready" on constant replay in her head. After a time that seemed like an eternity, the door was unlocked. Sam threw the door open and hastened inside.

The lobby was empty, but the smoking cup of coffee on the security guard's desk spoke of someone departing for safer parts in a hurry. She started to make her way towards the desk when the staircase door opened. In strode a figure in bomb defusing gear. Her knees almost buckled under. Bailey had known. He must be okay.

The figure kept his distance and brandished a large cardboard card saying "Are you alone?" Out loud, the man shouted "Is that you, Sam?" Sam croaked her affirmative reply, catching onto the ploy. They must keep their guard up in case Jack had attached a bug on the bomb.

The next card asked "A bomb?" She opened her jacket gingerly to let the ATF agent a look at the bomb.

The agent signaled to let Sam know he'd get closer and approached her cautiously.

"Where's Bailey?" She had to know, had to hear that he was okay. She also needed up keep up the pretence for the possibly prying ears.

The agent was inspecting the bomb. "Agent Malone is in the command center. He's coming up as we speak." He handed her a note with Bailey's hand writing on it. The note simply said "I'm okay." Relief washed over her like a tide.

The man stood up and tugged on the jacket, nodding at her. Sam took this as permission to shed the garment.

Sam continued with the questions. "Is he okay? I need to see him, now."

"He is okay, relatively speaking. What does Jack want?" She launched into an explanation, giving the agent time to assess the bomb. Sam allowed herself to breathe a little deeper, knowing that she would be out of her predicament soon.

The agent handed her a note that said "Stay still. Cutting the detonation cord." He took a pair of pliers from the kit assembled at his knees. He shot a look at Sam, who took a deep breath. He then cut the cord.

It had taken Bailey every ounce of self-restraint to not fly through the door when moment he heard Sam asking after him. When the ATF agent peeped his pager with the words "all clear", he pushed the door open and was greeted with the most beautiful sight in the world. Sam's head whipped to the sound of the opening door, and he could see her body deflate a little, finally letting go of some anxiety. A brilliant smile danced on her lips. The agent held up a hand so Bailey would stay back for the time being. He still needed to study the device before removing it.

Bailey wanted to comfort her in any way he could from this loathsome distance. "Chloe's safe." Sam bit back a sob of relief.

Sam ran her eyes over him, needing to make sure he was alright. Her eyes landed on his left shoulder and the sling around it. "I'm so sorry, Bail."

Bailey took an involuntary step in her direction. "Don't be, there's no reason."

The agent scribbled something on a pad of paper. "Okay if bomb belt off?" She gestured to be given the pad and pen. She wrote a note "Only if I can still put it on." The agent nodded. He took off the belt and withdrew to a corner to check it for bugs.

Sam was free of the bomb and she rushed to Bailey. She remembered to be careful of his wound, hugging him from her left, wrapping her left arm around his waist and winding her right arm around Bailey's neck. He wrapped his good arm around her, palm ending up between her shoulder blades. All their fears over the past seven days relinquished their hold on them. They were together again.

"It's Sheriff Boats," Sam whispered after a while. She buried her head in the crook of his head and neck. Bailey tightened his arm around her. "We know." She breathed out a sigh, happy to have someone to share her horror. Her mind finally registered that Bailey's upper body was uncommonly rigid. "You're wearing a bullet vest," she murmured in amazement, her hands confirming her realization before traveling to wrap around his neck. "I know." She giggled, then was surprised that such a noise could escape her lips after the torture she'd been subjected to.

The ATF agent hadn't found any bugs, so he'd given the all clear. Bailey silently thanked the heavens that Jack's hubris had driven the killer to underestimate his opponents. Sam barely realised that the lobby was swarming with people as she sought solace in Bailey's embrace. They broke off their hug when Grace, John and George approached them. She hugged them all, and introductions were made with Agent Foster.

"Sam, this is Agent Eric Foster. He was assigned to our investigation" Bailey explained.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Agent Waters, and a relief to meet you alive."

Sam shook his hand. "Pleased to meet you."

Foster observed the woman in front of him. Even though she seemed engaged with her colleagues and himself, she hadn't really stepped away from Malone's reach. Their shoulders were touching and they were standing at an angle towards each other.

"I look forward to closing this case and discussing it with you." Waters acknowledged the obligation to recount her story to the agent at a later time with a tight smile and looked at Malone for encouragement. He placed his right hand on her waist.

"What is Jack's plan?"

"He wants me to bring Bailey to him so he can... finish the deed. The bomb has a timer on it. The note in the car said that he'd call me for further instructions."

Bailey snapped to leadership mode. "Where and when?"

"He's going to call the phone booth at the south-west corner of Adams Park at 2:25 pm."

"George, I want all calls to that phone booth to be routed through the command center to my cell phone. And assume control of the traffic lights."

"I'm on it." George gave Sam a brief hug and looked at the profiler and her mentor. "Be safe, both of you. I'll be in touch." He rushed to the elevator that was about to descend. He would need to re-route the phone calls, take charge of the traffic lights and keep track of the duo's location via the skin implant Grace had injected into Bailey.

Sam turned to Bailey. "Jack expects to see us in 55 minutes, wherever that may be. Do you have a flak jacket and a gun for me?"

Bailey pulled Sam aside, his protective instincts screaming at him. "Sam, you should stay here. Let other agents capture Jack. He'll reveal his location on the phone and that's it, the game's over. The place will be crawling with agents. He won't escape this time."

"No. I can't take that chance. We have to get him, and the only way we can ensnare him fully is to dangle both of us in front of him. When he's looking down at the barrels of our guns, then I'll trust him to others." Sam raised her voice to ask John to bring her a flak jacket.

Agent Foster had trailed them in silence. He said in a low voice: "You know that he will probably try to kill you, Agent Waters, when he realises he's lost?" Malone looked at the blonde with hesitant worry, but she returned the gaze with a look of love and jubilation.

She answered in a clear voice: "Agent Foster, Jack's already lost and I've already won. He let Bailey live." She took the bullet vest John offered and retreated to the guard's back room behind the lobby desk. Grace joined her. Bailey and Foster started making arrangements for the back-up team, who'd be trailing them, leaving ten minutes after Sam and Bailey. Bailey then walked over to thank Agent Mann, the ATF operative who'd been stationed at the VCTF ever since Bailey had contacted the ATF brass. The director was only too happy to help out once he heard there was a chance to get revenge on the killer who'd killed Coop.

Grace gave Sam the once-over, assessing her friend's physical state. Grace could see she was nearly running on empty, and made her eat a power bar while Grace fastened the jacket around her.

Armed with the necessary flak jacket and a bottle of water, Sam shuffled back to Bailey. He shot her a look while handing a hand gun to her. "I thought you didn't do this part." Sam was relieved, for Bailey's words meant that he had pushed aside any doubts about their plan of action.

She smiled at the memory his words had evoked. "Bail, I'm doing this part with you, and that makes all the difference," Sam murmured. She stashed the gun in the waistband of her pants. The ATF agent put the bomb belt back on her and assured her that the device was now harmless. She asked to be shown how to take the belt off, should the need arise. After the tutorial, she threw her jacket back on. Bailey received word that a brief sweep of the car hadn't turned up any bugs. They'd be able to converse without the fear of Jack hearing every word.

"Everything ready to go?" Bailey nodded his assent. She spared one last glance at their friends and colleagues, before turning to Bailey and reaching for his right hand. "Let's bring this to its final end." They hastened out of the building, hand in hand. John, Grace, Agent Foster and others sprang into action. The back-up team was to leave in a matter of minutes.

Sam pushed the door open and made a beeline for the car. "Where do you want to sit, front or back?"

"In the front." Sam opened opened the shotgun door and helped Bailey maneuver himself onto the seat. Bailey reached to buckle the seat belt with his right hand, but in the process he leaned his left shoulder on the seat. He blanched, swore under his breath and his eyes flitted shut. Sam took the offending seat belt and fastened it across his lap. Taking advantage of her closeness, she pressed a soft kiss on his temple. His eyes flew open. She looked at him closely. "Better?" He made a small nod. "Good." She straightened her body, closed Bailey's door and climbed into the driver's seat.

They checked the time. They had sixteen minutes to reach the phone booth at Adams Park. Sam pulled into traffic.

Bailey broke the silence. "How are you?"

She spared him a glance, then trained her eyes once again on the road. "Better now."

Bailey both needed and feared the answer to his next question. But he needed to know before facing off with Jack, before allowing Sam in the same space with the madman. "Sam... Did Jack get physical with you?"

"What? No!" She looked at him, but he didn't look convinced, still fearing the worst. She reached her right hand to reassure him, caressing his neck. She locked gazes with him and uttered "Bail, no. I was careful to keep him at a distance. Okay?" Bailey nodded silently.

"How did you figure out why I wasn't dead?"

"Jack... Uh, he spent days in his version of regaling me. He told me of the final moments of each victim. When he reached you, he glossed it over. That's how I found out. I was so relieved, I can't even tell you." She shot him an affectionate look. "After that, I baited him into making a mistake, hoping to God that you'd be ready. How did you know what his plan would be?"

"John helped us figure it out. He made a joke about paper cuts and grenades." Bailey looked at the belt around Sam's waist. "What do you think he has in store for us?"

"I don't think he has a convoluted plan in place. His arrogance and impatience drove him to send me to you. He won't see this coming." This time, Sam looked at Bailey's injured shoulder. "Can you shoot with your right hand?"

"Grace shot my shoulder full of local anaesthetic. I can steady my aim with my left arm."

* * *

Sam was slowing down the car. They had two minutes to go before Jack's deadline. As Sam pulled up to the phone booth, Bailey remembered the picture of Chloe he'd been carrying with him ever since Tuesday. He'd taken it from one of the picture frames in Sam's office. He handed the photo over without ceremony.

When Sam realised what the photo was, a tiny piece of her battered soul healed. Bailey never ceased to amaze her. She made up her mind. She knew she couldn't let either of them walk into harm's way without telling Bailey how she felt. She jumped out of the car and rushed over to his side. She opened the door, placed her hands on either side of his face and kissed him gently yet firmly, spilling her love into the kiss. The sensation of her lips against his hadn't dissipated in the slightest when she croaked "I love you, Bailey".

Bailey didn't have a chance to respond when Sam jumped slightly at the sound of his cell phone ringing. The call was early. He handed it over to her, and she considered it in her hands as if it weighed heavy in her grasp. She answered on the fourth ring, looking straight into Bailey's eyes.

"Hello?"

Her eyes glazed over and Bailey knew that Jack was calling.

She listened to Jack purring on the other end of the call. "Sam. I miss you already. It won't be long, though. Put Malone on the phone, unless you want to go boom."

She looked at him with worry in her eyes, but placed the phone in his right hand. "He wants to talk to you."

Bailey nodded and uttered gruffly "Malone."

"How does it feel to be walking to your own execution?"

"That's a question I'll be asking you in the future."

Jack cackled. "I doubt it. Drive to Field's End Road, Lot 5. Be mindful of the passage of time. I wouldn't want to hurt Sam." The killer hung up.

"Where does he want us to go?"

"Field's End Road. I'll alert the VCTF and the back-up team. They'll all stay two miles away until I send a page to George. Then they'll converge on our location." Sam nodded and turned around to reach the driver's seat.

* * *

Bailey tried to focus on preparing himself for the encounter with Jack, but his thoughts would, now and again, center on the kiss Sam had planted on him and her words. He wanted to ask what she had meant, if she really felt the same way about him, when she had realised it. But as always, Bailey was bound by his deep-rooted gift for denial, one that had prevented him from realising the true nature of his feelings for Sam. His romantic track record was a train wreck, and he was scared of tangling his best friend there in case he'd read more into the kiss than she had meant.

Sam, for her part, was worried to death with dread and fear for the approaching reunion with Jack. When she managed to escape her worries, she scolded herself silently for her moment of weakness, and yet she couldn't bring herself to regret it. She had always worn her heart on her sleeve when it came to Bailey, and she didn't have it in her to keep her feelings suppressed at a moment like this. She was both elated and scared.

She broke the silence to go over the plan once more.

* * *

Sam and Bailey stepped into the abandoned warehouse, staying close to one another. Sam took point, walking in front of Bailey so as to prevent Jack from shooting him point blank from afar. They stepped into a big industrial hall, where there was scarce machinery and little shelter to hide behind. They stopped there out of silent agreement, both of them knowing that Jack would surface here sooner or later. The timer on Sam's bomb read six minutes. They positioned themselves next to the back wall which had no windows, doors or crevices.

"Come show your face, you miserable bastard!" Sam shouted into the silence.

As if on cue, they heard a door open on the far side of the hall, the view of which was partially blocked by the machinery. Jack emerged and chuckled with menace. "So impatient, Sam. It only takes a second to shoot Malone." Bailey fingered the pager he had in his jacked pocket, sending the page to the back-up team. He then removed his hand to avoid arousing Jack's suspicion. Jack was approaching them fast with a gun in his lax hand.

"I see you told your precious Malone who I was," Jack remarked on the lack of shocked recognition on Bailey's part. The agents remained taciturn, moving so that they were side by side, facing the killer. Sam pretended to cower as Jack walked closer, while Bailey didn't have to fake the disgust on his face.

Jack was fifty feet away when both of them drew their weapons. Jack mistook their intent for a ploy to make him disarm the bomb while at gun point, and so he continued his approach, tutting "My, my. Put those away before I get angry and blow Sam to bits."

Bailey responded with an icy command "Stop where you are. You're under arrest."

Jack looked baffled and amused, before countering Bailey's words with "You seem to be forgetting that beloved Sam is about to be scattered to smithereens."

Sam taunted Jack "Think again." Jack stopped in his tracks, taking in the situation. Bailey ordered him to drop his weapon and get down on his knees, but he ignored the words, his mind buzzing with thoughts.

Sam dropped her gaze to the bomb to maneuver it off from her with her left arm. She dangled the belt in her hand, then let it drop to the floor. The steel was back in her voice. "Do as he says. It's over. You lost."

The sight of Sam dropping the bomb took a moment to register in his brain. He didn't even hear her words as the walls came crashing down. He'd been so close, he had almost succeeded with his master plan. Now, he had failed and had been pushed into a corner. He tasted something bitter in his mouth as the adrenaline kicked in and he lashed out. He set his eyes on Sam and raised his gun.

Four shots rang out, two bodies collapsed to the floor. One had three bullet wounds, the other body had sustained one bullet hole that had been caught by the flak jacket. The impact of the contact was enough to send Sam into the wall, and she slid down, for a moment knowing nothing.

Bailey saw Sam go down out of the corner of his eye. The hardest thing he ever had to do was to trust that she was okay while he moved to clear the threat Jack posed. He walked over to the killer quickly, eyes fastened and his gun trained on the form on the floor. He kicked Jack's weapon away and checked the injuries quickly.

Three bullet wounds, all to the torso. The killer was still alive, but he would bleed out fast. Bailey backed away, never turning his back to Jack. He reached Sam and let his attention focus on her, swiftly inspecting her body for wounds. He thanked the heavens when he saw the bullet hole in the vest. Sam had just been knocked out of it by the impact of colliding with the wall, and she was already coming to.

Her eyes flitted to Bailey's, silently asking if he was okay. At his nod, she asked "Is he dead?", looking over at Jack's limp body.

"Probably soon."

Jack drew a ragged breath, trying to savour his last moments. All those times he'd taken an innocent life to feel alive, and now he himself felt alive because of the inevitability of death. In his foggy state of mind, he realised that Sam hadn't died when he heard her voice. So he wouldn't see her in death. The agents' exchange registered in his mind. The last word he heard on this earth was Sam's reply to Bailey's words: "Good."

Sam and Bailey remained by the wall, huddling together. Bailey looped his arm around Sam, and she rested her head on his chest. She allowed her eyes to close, while Bailey kept his eyes on Jack, ready to pounce if the killer showed movement. The back-up team would reach them shortly, and the team's arrival would introduce a flurry of questions to be answered. So, the agents took a moment to marvel the fact that a man hunt that had lasted for eleven years was finally over, and they had seen it to the end and had lived to tell the tale.

And so the back-up team found them, leaning against the wall, with Bailey resting his chin on Sam's head. When John confirmed Jack's death, Sam asked Bailey where his phone was, then fished it out of his inside pocket. She dialled Angel's number, greeted her best friend and asked to speak to Chloe.

Bailey listened as Sam spoke to her daughter. "Hey baby girl, I love you so much. I'm coming home within the hour, okay?" She listened intently to something Chloe said on the other side of the line. "I'm just fine. Remember that mama loves you. See you really soon."

Bailey and Sam finally rose up when Agent Foster walked over to them. "Agent Malone, I need to ask some questions from Agent Waters before she heads home." Sam followed Agent Foster dutifully, her reluctance at being away from Bailey apparent to everyone. She recounted the events of the car ride, the phone call and the events in the abandoned warehouse, leaving out the personal developments. Those were only between Bail and herself.

Agent Foster let her go after she'd given a precursory account of the chain of events. He'd ask the same questions from Agent Malone, but for now he was more than happy with the overview Waters had supplied and he didn't want to detain the agent's second happy reunion. He informed her that he'd need a more comprehensive statement tomorrow. She left him to make her way back to Bailey, who was talking with John.

Sam hugged the younger agent, then stepped closer to Bailey. "I'm gonna meet Chloe and Angel and then head home. See you there?"

"Of course." She pressed a whisper of a kiss on his cheek. Bailey's eyes followed her retreating figure as she moved towards the door. Before she walked out, she felt compelled to make sure he was okay. She guessed that it was an impulse she would grow familiar with in the upcoming months. She looked back at Bailey to find him regarding her. Maybe she wouldn't be the only one with this compulsion. Unbeknownst to each other, both of them was hit with the same realization: they were finally out of the abyss, the proof of which was the other person standing there, looking back. They had survived and become stronger, together. Perhaps the years to come would be their reward.

Sam gave a tiny wave and walked out the door.

_(TBC... Final chapter on its way!)_


	5. Look, I Just Want Us to Be Happy

**LOOK, I JUST WANT US TO BE HAPPY**

Sam had been withdrawn all evening. Bailey had witnessed her struggle to appear normal and accessible in front of Chloe. He could tell she was just going through the motions, and he knew she was grappling with the kidnapping, and would do so for many months ahead. He couldn't begin to imagine the horrors she must have experienced during those five days Jack had held her.

Chloe had gone to bed, opting to sleep in Angel's bed. Bailey saw how deep her daughter's rejection cut Sam. He'd reassured her that Chloe would get over it. Sam had muttered a non-committal response and excused herself to the shower, saying that Bailey should help himself to whatever he wanted to eat or drink.

Forty-five minutes later, Sam rejoined him in the living room. He'd been loath to let her out of his sight, but he understood her need to regroup on her own for a while, and he couldn't exactly join her in the shower. She was wearing her over-size grey sweater, faded jeans and the natural curl of her hair showed. She hadn't bothered to blow-dry it straight. She was skittish and wouldn't stay still more than ten seconds before puttering with something.

Bailey looked at her frame. She was thinner than she had been before the kidnapping. Either she must have limited her eating to bare necessities during her capture, Jack hadn't fed her much or she simply hadn't had the appetite. Time to take care of her.

"What would you like to eat?"

Sam didn't even take a beat before responding. "I'm not hungry."

Bailey was nonplussed by her answer. "When was the last time you ate? You have to have something."

Sam started pacing, rearranging the book shelf. "I don't want anything."

"Sam..."

"Really," she retorted, keeping her back resolutely to him.

"Too bad, since I'm making us grilled cheese." Bailey walked towards the kitchen.

"Fine." Her voice had an edge that stopped Bailey. He regarded her, with her stiff movements and her careful inspection of the titles of the books. She was trying to ignore the events of the past days. Her posture screamed "Stay away", but he couldn't comply. This was too important, for both of their futures. She was hanging on by a thread, and she needed to fall apart as soon as possible. But he couldn't pressure her, or she would lose even more of her sense of control than she already had. Any other time, he would have pulled her in for a hug and waited for the fallout. Now, he would have to wait her out.

Sam sensed Bailey hovering. He hadn't gone to make the sandwiches. She needed to keep busy, following an order that had risen up inside her since the silence had come beating down the first time she was left alone for a minute. She was in fight mode, her self-preservation instinct still in overdrive. She knew that she couldn't ignore the welling feelings of anguish and fear, but she also knew that once she gave into them, it would be a long time before she'd emerge from underneath their pull and even then, she would be the farthest thing from being unscathed. In short, she was trying to delay the inevitable. She just wanted a moment of peace. Was it too much to ask?

Bailey was in the room. He'd moved to sit on the arm chair closest to the book shelf. She couldn't bring herself to look at him. A single act of kindness from him would be deathly. Would lay her open for him to... What? Sam chided herself. Why was she treating Bail like the enemy? Why did she think he would wound her? He had never done so before. Why was she pulling away from the man she loved and had thought she would never see again? She was hurting, but he was hurting, too. This hadn't happened to her alone; this had happened to _them_. They needed each other's comfort if they were to get through this.

Bailey was relieved when Sam stopped reorganising the shelves, turned around and slid down to the floor to face him. She picked at the sleeve of her sweater for a while as a struggle raged inside her. He kept on waiting, sensing that she was ready to let him in. Finally, she looked at him, her beautiful features agonised, depicting a feeling of being utterly lost.

"I still feel like he has me, like I haven't been saved, " she whispered in a soft voice. Bailey was out of his chair before she finished her sentence, kneeling down to grab her left arm. He spoke in an earnest, passionate tone.

"Sam, look at me. You're not in his clutches anymore. You're safe, you're with me, okay?" He saw that she heard his words but couldn't bring herself to believe them yet. He needed to tie her to her present surroundings.

"Do as I say, alright? Touch the carpet. What does it feel like?"

"Uh... Soft and knobbly."

"Place your hands on the floor. Is it cold or warm?"

"Warm."

"What do you hear?"

Sam paused to listen. "Some song on the radio. Angel must have left the kitchen radio on."

"Okay, what do you smell?"

Again, Sam took a beat. "Potpourri on top of the book shelf... The pasta sauce Chloe and Angel ate earlier."

"What do you see?"

Sam focused her eyes on the man in front of her, offering her reply instantly. "I see you." Bailey marvelled at her ability to infuse a simple pronoun with such feeling, a mix of affection and relief.

She gazed at him for a while, then withdrew her eyes reluctantly. She closed her eyes, focusing on just breathing, feeling safe in Bailey's presence. Her thoughts drifted to the man still kneeling beside her.

She knew how she felt about him, but had yet to learn if he reciprocated the sentiment. She had vowed to herself that she would tell him she loved him as soon as she had the chance, and so she had. She didn't regret it, but she admitted that the timing had been rash, and worse, there hadn't been any time for Bailey to respond. Her feelings had overrun common sense in that moment. She wondered what he would say now if she were to repeat her declaration. Maybe he'd think she loved him as a friend. Maybe he was still with Janet. Was he just waiting for some sign from her to leave?

Bailey watched as Sam tried to settle down and acclimate to her present surroundings. Her question knocked him for a loop. "Should you get going? I mean, isn't Janet going to worry soon?"

Bailey had a choice to make. Either stand up, answer in a vague manner and skirt around the issue, or hunker down, give a straight answer and make himself vulnerable in a way he had never been. He put his weight on his right arm as he sat down. He would see this through.

He trained his eyes on the book shelf. "She's long gone."

Sam was puzzled. Had Janet left Bailey when the going got tough? She knew that the demands of Bailey's job had been a major factor in the disintegration of their marriage years earlier. "Why?"

Sam's tone of voice carried a hint of impatience and irritation, and Bailey thought back to the last time she'd asked the same question about his ex-wife. Just moments before the hostage situation in the jewellery store. He remembered putting a ring on Sam's ring finger. _How ironic._

"She... didn't take too kindly to the fact that I wouldn't rest or sleep before you were rescued. "

She watched him out of the corner of her eye. "Oh. I'm sorry."

"I guess it was inevitable. I though we'd changed enough to make a go of it, but the same obstacles were still there." _Saddled with the new fact that I'm in love with someone else._

She reached over his legs and laced her fingers with his. "Bailey, what I told you by the phone booth..."

He cut her short. "Sam..." He searched for words. How could he postpone this heart-to-heart without shutting her down or offending her? "I'm not going anywhere. I'm by your side for good. We don't have to do this now, just hours after we shot Jack. You need to concentrate on you. We can talk about this in a week's time. Is that okay with you?"

Sam nodded her response. She knew Bailey had a point. She had just escaped Jack's clutches. She needed to find her footing before they discussed their relationship and its future. But, she craved some reassurance from him. "Stay the night?"

"Anything you need. Come on, let's go have something to eat."

* * *

An hour later, they had retreated to Sam's bedroom. They had prepared their sandwiches in comfortable silence, but after they'd eaten and were washing up, Sam had started tensing up. She was dreading sleep, afraid of the nightmares that would inevitably haunt her even though the man who'd implanted them was dead.

Bailey knew that their moment on the floor in the living room had been but a brief respite. Sam still hadn't come crashing down. When she excused herself to the en suite bathroom of her bedroom, he nodded, just stopping short of accompanying her there. He listened for any signs of distress, but no noises could be heard. After she had spent ten minutes in the bathroom, Bailey rose from the bed where he'd sat, waiting for Sam to emerge.

He rapped gently on the door. No answer. He called out to her softly. No answer. He needed to know what she was doing. "Sam, I'm coming in." She had neglected to lock the door, or maybe it had been intentional. She'd spent more days than anyone should locked up. He opened the door to find Sam leaning on the sink, staring at her reflection, looking ashen and breathing hard. She didn't even acknowledge his presence. He moved quickly to stand behind her and looked at her in the mirror. "Sam?"

She was shaking, drawing ragged breaths and her eyes were blurred with tears. He stepped closer and twined his right hand around her waist, wanting to anchor her to the present and give her the comfort of another human being's presence. His comfort. "Sam, it's okay. Everything's okay." She barely reacted to his words, using all of her energy to keep her emotions bottled up. "You're safe now." She started shaking worse, her body mirroring her mind's refusal to let go.

He tried to coax her gently to a more upright stance."Sam, you can let go. You can stop holding on. Don't hold on. Let go." An anguished cry escaped her lips and she would have slid to the floor had Bailey not had his arm around her waist. They ended up on the floor anyway, with Bailey leaning against the bath tub, cradling Sam who purged her mind of the terror of her ordeal. When the tears subsided, she started telling him, sharing events here and there, as they came to her. She didn't tell him everything, but enough to feel that her burden had lessened. After the cold tile floor had chilled both of them, they climbed into the bed, exhausted to the bone.

Sam's breakdown had left her worn out, and she fell asleep quickly. It took longer for sleep to claim Bailey, as his mind was still buzzing with worry for Sam. Half the time he was fretting the future and how deep Sam might plummet under the water before she re-surfaced again. Half the time he just relished the feel of her head on his chest, her arm around his waist, his hand resting on her back under her golden tresses. He listened as her breathing evened out and waited for signs of distressed sleep. As none came, he began to relax and drift to sleep.

They managed to sleep a few hours before the first nightmare woke up Sam. In her panic stricken haze, the vivid memories of her captivity, brought forth by the dream, lingered until she kicked her way out of the bed, landing on the floor. She took a second to take in her surroundings and realise she was in her own bedroom, not in the white-washed, light-bathed room where Jack had detained her.

She sat up to peer over the bed. Even in darkness, she could see that Bailey was still, taking heavy breaths. "Bailey?" He didn't respond, focusing on something else. Sam realised she must have hit him or pushed against him, aggravating his wound in the process. "Bail, can I get you anything?"

Bailey shook his head, willing away the wave of nausea. "I'll be fine, just give it a minute."

"Want me to get you a glass of water?"

"If you wouldn't mind." She got up and padded her way to the bathroom, grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled up the glass. She flicked off the light and returned to Bailey, putting the glass on the night table. She took out one of his pills and left it on the table. Bailey would help himself when he was up to it. She walked to the foot of the bed and gathered up the duvet her frantic thrashing had pushed off the bed. Bailey had sat up and taken the pill and was again settling in. He looked at her expectantly and noticed she looked hesitant. She didn't want to hurt him again in her sleep.

"Come on. I'm nothing if not resilient" Bailey quipped while lifting the covers for Sam to slink under. She relented, knowing she wouldn't sleep even two seconds apart from him.

"Okay, but you better keep that bottle of pills handy."

"Don't you worry, I know a guy if I run out. Or in this case, a gal."

* * *

The family morning was awkward. Chloe was still keeping her distance, afraid to trust her mother so soon again despite Sam's overtures. The little girl had leant on Angel during Sam's disappearance and for the time being, she showed no signs of relenting. Neither of them seemed to think it odd to eat breakfast with Bailey. They had grown accustomed to his presence in the safe house, and Chloe was able to reach out to him more than to her mother. For her part, Angel had realised that Bailey would be a permanent fixture in her best friend's home, even if the friend in question remained taciturn on the subject.

Angel and Chloe took Denzel for a walk, leaving the agents to themselves. Sam busied herself in the kitchen, preferring to wash the dishes by hand. She needed something menial to do to keep her mind occupied. Bailey, not being able to help out, resorted to reading the newspaper on the kitchen isle. He would be present in case she had a flashback, but would be inconspicuous enough so as to not irritate her.

She was half way through with the dishes when the door bell rang. Sam indicated that Bailey should go open the door. Agent Foster had arrived to take Sam's preliminary statement of her kidnapping.

"Agent Malone. How are you faring?"

"I've been worse. You here for Sam's statement?"

"Indeed. I hope I didn't come at a bad time. The Deputy Director is breathing down my neck to get it," Foster said in a way of apology. "Where is Agent Waters?"

"In the kitchen. Follow me." They walked past the den and through the living room to find Sam still hard at work at the sink. She glanced behind her to see who'd accompanied Bailey into the kitchen. Her face darkened a bit before she recovered to greet the other profiler. She offered to make coffee before they would get started and suggested the den for the statement. Agent Foster back tracked to make his preparations, and Bailey also left Sam alone, to allow her to compose herself. Sam, on the other hand, spent her few minutes alone wondering if Foster would let Bailey be present while she gave the overview of her kidnapping.

She walked into the den with three mugs full of coffee. She handed one to Foster and another to Bailey, before grabbing one for herself and sitting down on a comfortable wing-back chair, drawing her legs under her. Foster seated himself on the sofa, close to Sam, and looked at Bailey pointedly, hoping he would get the hint to make himself scarce. "Shall we get started?"

"Yes, let's. Bail, you don't have to go. Stay." Sam called back to Bailey who was on his way out of the den.

"Agent Waters, I would prefer to take your statement alone."

"Let me reassure you that Bailey's presence will in no way influence me or lead me to sugar coat my story. I want him here, and if you don't like it, tough." Bailey and Sam shared a small smile before he settled on a chair at an angle from Sam and Foster.

She took a sip of her coffee, then laid the mug on the side table. "Where do you want me to start?"

* * *

An hour and a half later Foster was satisfied with the details Sam had supplied. Angel and Chloe had returned from walking Denzel, and they all had a subdued lunch. Chloe was in the back yard playing with the canine. Sam asked Angel to look after her while she did something. She looked for Bailey, who was sitting in the living room attempting to read a book..

"Hey. You busy?"

Bailey looked up. "Not particularly. Why?"

"There's something I want to do with you. Come on." He threw the book on the table, not bothering to mark the page. He couldn't even remember what the book was about, so losing his place was no big loss. He followed her as she grabbed a box of matches, lighter fluid and a fire extinguisher from her household room, then led him to the garage. She opened the garage door and set the extinguisher down. She then walked to the corner and yanked a tarp down from a high structure. Bailey realised that the tarp had been covering case file boxes.

"You still had them?" he asked, puzzled.

She grabbed a box and carried it to the drive way. "Afraid so. I waited for the trial to be over to burn them. Then, you were so busy and I was so busy that I decided to burn the files after my trip to the cabin."

"Why didn't you just burn them on your own?"

"The idea didn't even cross my mind. You were there when this started. You had to be here when it ended," she explained truthfully.

She worked up a sweat carrying the boxes out. 19 boxes, all told. Sam took a moment to catch her breath as Bailey spurted lighter fluid on the boxes. She bent down to pick up the box of matches, and as she was taking one match out, she froze, seeing in her mind's eye Jack lighting up his cigarette. Bailey stepped closer when she didn't make a move. "Sam?" He put his hand on her back when she didn't respond. The light contact brought her back.

"He was fiddling with matches when he told me you were dead" she explained with a shaky breath. She tore her eyes away from the box to look Bailey in the eyes. "He said your last word was my name. Is that true?" She could see that he was surprised.

"I think it was. But, he was far away when he shot me, and I'd passed out when he pinned the badge on my chest."

She took a moment to ponder what Bailey had said. "So he guessed it? Leave it to him to taint something meaningful between us," she sighed out loud.

"Hey." Bailey stepped in front Sam and gently lifted her head. "He only taints it if you let him. He's now dead, we're still alive. Let's start living again. You need to start living again. I know it'll take some time, but this is a good first step."

"You're right." She looked at the piles of boxes. "Let's do it."

She left the matchbox in Bailey's hand while she went to get the fire extinguisher. She settled it down beside them, took the box Bailey offered and lit one match. She allowed it to burn a few seconds before flicking it to the pile. It only took a few moments before the flame located the lighter fluid, creating a blaze of light and heat. Sam and Bailey backed off from the heat, ending up twelve feet away. Sam leant her back onto his chest, wrapped his arm around her waist and let her head rest on his shoulder. He pressed a soft kiss on her temple. They watched as eleven years of grief and fear documented on paper burned away in a cathartic fire.

* * *

Sam woke up drowsily, and she realised that she must have slept at least four hours straight without a nightmare. She tried to go back to sleep, burrowing into Bailey's chest. A few minutes passed before Bailey asked tentatively "Sam, are you awake?"

"No" she muttered.

His arm that had been tracing faint circles on her back stilled. "It's been a week."

Sam was suddenly wide awake. She rose up to lie on her side and lean her head on her shoulder. "Yeah. Do you want to start?" He nodded, then took a few moments to lean his head on the pillow.

"You said last week that you loved me." She nodded, waiting for him to carry on. "I believe that. But, are you in love with me?" As she started to bristle at his way of making distinctions, he silenced her with a finger on he lips. "Sam, as I said, I do believe you love me. I'm not saying no to a relationship. But as a man who's in love with you, I'm asking you to really search your feelings."

"You're in love with me?" At his nod, she kissed him soundly. Bailey pulled them back from the brink to the present. "Before we get totally distracted," she flashed an alluring grin, "take a moment and give me an answer." She lay on her back and stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out her heart.

"I know that I love you. As for being in love... I'm sorry, I don't know yet. I'm all over the place and will be for quite some time."

"You don't need to apologise."

"If you give me a little time to catch up, I will fall in love with you, too. So... how do you see us going forward?"

"Call me crazy, but I think a little dating is in order."

"Well okay, but just remember that you've already taken me to the cemetery, and I'm counting that one in." She amused herself by watching the cogs turn in his head, waiting out his realisation.

* * *

_Six months later _

Sam looked around, trying to spot familiar faces in the small, chatty crowds. The hall was festive, decked with Christmas decorations and a big Christmas tree in the center of the space. Around it were tables where people were eating and drinking. No VCTF members or their significant others there. She had feared she'd arrive late, but her former colleagues must have been detained, too. She had been finalising the arrangements for her future job.

She decided to bite the bullet and get a drink, without company though she was. She would scan the place for acquaintances, then probably withdraw to a corner to wait for Bailey. She didn't want to supply answers to obtrusive questions about her private life or why she'd decided to quit. She walked over to the bar, attracting a fair amount of lingering gazes in her sleek red, knee-length dress.

She ordered a Martini and started fishing for the drink coupon from her purse. She was startled when someone bumped into her from the left-hand side, causing her a side-step in order to gain her balance. She turned over to look who had assailed her. It was a man who looked vaguely familiar, with his long frame, blue defiant eyes and light brown hair. He had a smug air about him. She couldn't remember his name, or even place him. He, on the other hand, recognised her.

"Well, if it isn't the famous Sam Waters!"

"I'm sorry, I don't believe I've had the pleasure..."

"Oh, I guess not. The high priestess of the VCTF would have no need to know the worker bees!"

Sam was stunned and offended. "Excuse me?"

"No no, my bad. You don't work there anymore, do you? Quit as soon as the limelight stopped shining, didn't you?"

He was baiting her, alright, and she wouldn't tolerate much more. "Does the worker bee happen to have a name?" A familiar voice boomed behind her: "Nice to see you again, Agent Waters!"

Sam turned to face Agent Foster, thankful for a reprieve from the odious stranger. "Agent Foster, always a pleasure." Foster reached the pair and greeted the man. "Agent Echolls. Fancy seeing you here." Echolls? She still couldn't remember him. She'd have to ask Bailey.

"Just riding out my days to retirement" Echolls spat out.

"Ah. Well, I heard that Agent Navarro was looking for you. Something about a bet?" Foster shot a pointed look at the man. He acquiesced and skulked away. Sam shot Foster a grateful smile.

"So, Agent Foster... What brings you by?"

"I came by to review a few cases. Forensic evidence had accumulated since the last time." Foster and a couple other profilers had stepped in to take Sam's place. The FBI brass refused to let just one profiler shoulder the VCTF's workload, having learnt something from the way some cases had stalled during and after Sam's disappearance. Now, the cases were divided according to each profiler's expertise. The agents were also free to travel and work on other investigations.

"And yourself?"

"Bailey invited me." Foster didn't seem surprised. He was curious enough of her life to ask "Have you settled on a job yet?"

"I made the arrangements this afternoon, in fact. I'll be working as a counsellor for agents. The job starts in a few months."

"In the task force building?" Sam nodded. "So you won't be too far from the old stomping grounds."

"Nope." Sam's attention was distracted as she noticed members of the VCTF filing in through the doors. Bailey walked in last, always ready to play the role of the captain who refused to abandon ship. He had cut back his working hours a little, something even Agent Foster had noticed. Foster suspected the reason for the change was the woman standing beside him, who was brimming with desire to go greet her date. She shot him an apologetic look and excused herself.

She made her way quickly through the milling crowds. She greeted Grace as she passed her; John and George were already engaged with some junior agents, from the look of things. Bailey broke free from the mindless chit chat of the human resources lady just as Sam arrived to his side. She reached up to kiss him softly. "Hey."

"You made it!"

She swatted his chest."What do you mean, I made it? I was here long enough to get heckled before you arrived."

"What do you mean?"

She draped her arm around his waist and started heading toward George and John. "Oh, some agent called Echolls made some snide remarks. Foster drove him away."

"Echolls?"

"Do you know him?" Bailey thought for a while, then shook his head.

"Let me get back to you on that one. Are you alright? I hope it won't distract you all night." He'd make sure to give Echolls a courtesy call later.

"Right now, you're driving me to distraction." She traced her finger gently behind his ear, down to the lapels of his dress shirt. She gave him a spirited kiss, then broke away with a wicked grin and joined the company of her friends.

* * *

_Four months later _

Bailey had been fidgeting all evening. He had just returned from an out-of-town man hunt, and Sam knew that winding down from a stressful case would take its time. However, he was usually able to let go of the case after a few hours in her and Chloe's company. He was now past hour four.

Chloe had turned in for the night, and Sam began to wonder if she would need either her skills as a psychologist or a profiler to ferret out the reason of Bailey's discomfort. They were sitting on the sofa, snuggled up, listening to the Magic Flute when Bailey came out with it.

"I heard from Casper a few nights ago."

Bailey's tone of voice triggered the alarm bells in Sam's head. "Casper? What did he want?"

"He gave me a heads-up on something. Concerning you." She shot him a quizzical look.

"He came to see me after Jack had kidnapped you. I asked him to keep his ear to the ground concerning you" he explained. She nodded, encouraging him to go on.

"Remember Dominick Lattimore?"

Sam raised her head to look him in the eyes. "The crime book author?"

Bailey nodded. "Yes. Casper said he's writing a book on Jack."

Sam stiffened immediately. "What? Are you sure?"

Bailey stroked Sam's back. "Sadly, I am."

"Damn."

He released a sigh. "It gets worse."

"How much worse?"

"That ass of an agent, Echolls, is helping him."

Sam had to think hard to even remember the agent. "Echolls? The profiler who took a stab at Jack before you brought me in? Who was at the Christmas party?"

"Apparently, he didn't take it too well when I replaced him with you in the investigation. He's had it in for us ever since. Now, this is his payback."

After the Christmas party, they had figured out together their connection to the abrasive agent. Sam and Echolls' paths had only crossed a few times. He'd trained before her time, and had been stationed on the West Coast for the majority of his career. Now he was collaborating with Lattimore to glorify Jack.

"Apparently, their book would use the real story as a starting point and make it a fictional piece. At least, on paper."

"Do you know if I'm in it? How about Chloe?"

"The heroine will be called Sue Walters. I have no idea about Chlo."

"Great." Sam turned taciturn, mulling over the shocking news.

"I can try to block it, or at least make sure they don't have access to the FBI files."

"They can still use the newspaper clippings, local police departments' files and the court scripts from Lucas' trial. Besides, Echolls has probably made copies of all the Jack files that floated his way."

"Want me to ask Casper to do some magic on him?" She looked at him with an amused smile. Levity was just what she needed.

"Casper? What's preventing you from being my personal hitman?"

"We're a tag team of sorts."

Sam was about to continue their flirting and to burrow into his arms when it hit her. She took him in, looking at his relaxed state, so full of love and lingering concern for her. He was so familiar to her, his every look, mood and gesture. He had seen her over to the other side, he was still alive and well. All his intense attention was focused on her, and wasn't that just a thing to behold?

She realised with a jolt that she had fallen in love with him. Had finally found what she was looking for. The man she would spend the rest of her life with. Her search for a home had ended.

She climbed onto his lap, sitting on his knees and encircling his neck with her hands. Bailey was intrigued yet puzzled by her actions. His hands settled on her hips. She flashed an enticing smile. "Hi."

"Uh... Hi?"

"Guess what I just realised?" At Bailey's head shake, she continued: "I'm in love with you." Bailey drew a sharp breath.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." She started caressing the back of his neck.

"Are you really sure? This isn't too soon?"

She chuckled. "Forget your profiling tendencies for a while and just trust me on this one."

"'Cos I can still wait." She realised he was still willing to put her first and sacrifice his happiness for hers. Well, time for that had passed. She needed to nudge him a little. So, she dropped her hands and started to shift her weight off him altogether.

"Look, I just want us to be happy, but if you..." She didn't get further in words or movements for Bailey pulled her flush to him and claimed her lips. She never got around to finishing that sentence.

Some things were just fate.

_The end_.

_Aw, this brings us to the end of a story which I started imagining, believe it or not, eleven years ago! I'm sad to see it end, but elated that I managed to tell Sam and Bailey's story the way I envisioned it. I'd be thrilled to hear what you thought of it. Was bringing in a profiler with kidnapping expertise a sensible move? Did you like how Sam figured out Jack's lie? Were you satisfied with Jack's haphazard plan to kill Bailey? Did you catch the nods to some lines from various episodes? _

_I will drop in on Sam and Bail from this fic in my upcoming, short Christmas fic. I may end up writing a fic focusing on our couple's road to recovery that took largely place in the gap of six months leading up to VCTF Christmas party. If I do, I think it'll be angsty with a side dish of romance. Or, I keep feeling the pull of writing that first season episode we never got to see that the DVD set describes: "A rift opens up between Sam and Bailey when Jack kills an FBI agent who had information about Tom's murder – information she had no idea about." I see it as a test of the bond our couple share. They were never on the outs with one another during the course of the series, so I'm intrigued by how it might play out. _

_Anyways, thank you for reading!_


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